Smoke On The Water
by LeisaTheGreat
Summary: During a siren hunt, tensions are running high between the boys as Dean's year draws to an end and Sam begins to make some desperate final attempts at saving him. Hurt!Sam, Protective Big Brother!Dean. Set in season 3.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

 **A/N: Hey guys! I'm back again with my second spn fic!** **Thanks so much for everyone's support on the last one!** **So excited about to see what you guys think.**

 **This is set mid-to-late season 3 , as that's where I currently am in the series. **

* * *

"Excuse me, sir?" The girl is drop-dead gorgeous. Sun kissed skin, long bleach-blonde waves down to the middle of her back, booty shorts and a crop top all illuminated by the pool of the street lamp she's standing under. She smiles tentatively when he stops in his tracks, hearing her voice. "Sorry to bother you. Could you just walk me to my car?" Her arms are folded over her bare stomach, shifting from foot to foot. "Bad neighborhood, you know?"

The seedy motel parking lot is pitch black past the narrow walkway outside the rooms. The young woman has a handful of cash stuffed into her open purse, hands clenched around the bag. One of her bra straps is off her shoulder and her lip stick is smeared.

"Okay, sure, no problem." Anthony struggles not to look too friendly, remembering the brand new wedding band on his finger and Karen's sweet face waiting for him at home. She visibly deflates with relief and loops her arm through his, glancing around nervously as they start off toward the scarce row of cars. "So what're you doing here in the middle of the night, anyway?" Anthony internally kicks himself. What the hell does he _think_ she's doing here?

The girl laughs awkwardly, still clinging to him like he's a liferaft. "I, uh, had a date."

"Oh." He clears his throat.

She smiles sideways at him, chuckling at his obvious discomfort. "So what's your name?"

"Anthony."

"Not Tony?"

He smirks. "Anthony sounds more professional."

"Ahh, a professional. Let me guess." She stops him and puts a finger to her cherry red lips, tapping thoughtfully as her ocean-blue eyes scan him up and down. "Defence attorney?"

Anthony raises his eyebrows. "That's amazing, how'd you know that?"

She laughs and the gesture makes her eyes crinkle up. Her voice is beautiful. "What can I say? I've had some experience in your field..." They turn and keep walking. It's not until they're giggling and stumbling like two drunk teenagers down a sandy slope toward the beach that Anthony realizes they've left the parking lot all together. It's a gorgeous night. Clear and calm, a sprinkle of stars you rarely get to see in the city.

"Did you park on the beach," he asks lightly, gazing up at the sky.

"Yeah, it's not too far," she says. Her blonde curls are leaned against his shoulder as they walk, no longer with arms linked but hand in hand. Her hair is warm and smells like sea salt and ocean wind. "Thanks so much, by the way. You're a real hero, Anthony."

His face warms a little. "It's no big deal..." Then he realizes. "I never got your name."

She giggles. "It's Brooke."

"Brooke," he repeats, tasting the name. It matches her.

He dated a girl named Brooke once, back in college before he met Karen. She was a regular barhound but so, so hot. Every one of their dates consisted of getting brain-dead drunk until one or the other (or both) puked and made a complete embarassment out of themselves. They didn't last long for obvious reasons and now everytime he gets buzzed, he thinks of college-Brooke and feels sick to his stomach.

He certainly feels buzzed now, though he can't for the life of him imagine why. There was that glass of wine with dinner, sure, but just a glass... Not enough to feel tipsy. He's not _that_ much of a lightweight.

"Look," New-Brooke says. "Dolphins!"

"Wha...?"

Surely enough, there's a family of dolphins playing in the gentle waves just off-shore. What are they doing so close to the beach?

He staggers when Brooke suddenly releases his hand.

She kicks off her sandals and tugs Anthony's arms, her eyes bright with excitement. "Come on! This is a once in a lifetime opportunity! We _cannot_ pass this up."

"Um, I don't know..." He's swaying on his feet. "I don't really feel so well all of a sudden..."

"Oh come on," she says, reaching up to touch his cheek. When their eyes meet, hers are dark and lustful, shaded with full lashes. "It'll be fun..."

He feels numb, dazed, as she leads him by the hand. The water laps first around the toes of his leather loafers, then his ankles. Brooke leads him further and further into the ocean until its chilly depths have swallowed him up to his chest. Overhead, the gulls have gone silent and the dolphins are no longer anywhere to be seen.

Brooke's hair floats on the surface, the waves gently lapping at her slender neck. She's still holding his hands beneath the water but slowly her hands move up his wrists, up his arms, to his shoulders. She steps closer as he sways and almost falls, his head spinning, barely able to keep his eyes open.

"Shh," she breathes as some water splashes into his mouth and he coughs. She moves closer, touching her lips to his.

The world goes black before his eyes and he sinks into the water. His body rebels, thrashing when it can't find air, but Brooke's hands are still on his shoulders, holding him down.

She hums a little tune as Anthony drowns.

* * *

Dean could not be more ecstatic.

"How many times, Sammy? How many times have we wished for this to happen?" Sam watches with mild amusement as his brother tosses sun screen, beach towels, sunglasses, and a pack of beer onto the checkout counter of the beach-side gift shop. Dean is practically vibrating with impatience as the cashier scans each item.

"I don't know what you're so thrilled about. We're here for business, remember? Not vacation."

"I don't see why it can't be both." Dean grins sideways at him and Sam rolls his eyes but smiles nonetheless. " _Finally_. Finally we get a job somewhere fun!" He pays with a card that reads Jimmie Hendrix but the cashier doesn't seem to notice.

"Oh yeah. Three drownings in two weeks. All young, strong men who had no business being on the beach in the middle of the night. All found floating face down in the water, fully clothed, as if they just walked into the ocean and fell asleep. Real fun, Dean."

Finally his brother gives him a sour expression. "Do you always have to be such a downer?"

"Have a nice day," the cashier grumbles dully, handing them their plastic bag of goodies. The little bell over the door jingles as they push out onto the boardwalk, greeted by sunshine, sea gulls, and laughing children. Dean pulls the pair of shades from the bag and slips them on, not even bothering to take the tag off.

"You know what, Sammy?" He takes out the other pair of glasses-grinning at the bright fuscia rims Sam didn't notice while he was too busy rambling about death and murder-and slides them on his little brother's face. Sam fights, swatting the glasses away. Dean lowers his voice. "I don't have very long left on planet Earth," he whispers. "And I'm gonna enjoy a day on the beach, even if it kills me, dammit!"

Sam frowns under the stupid looking glasses. "Well in this case, it just might."

"Eh, we've got all day. Sirens usually only attack at night."

Sam takes the sunglasses off, rolling his eyes at the obnoxious color. "Alright, fine. You go have your fun in the sun but we're meeting back at the motel before nightfall."

Dean frowns, watching him turn to walk away. "Where are you going, sourpuss?"

"The motel. I'm gonna get some more research done."

"I thought you finished researching."

"Nah, there's a couple more things I want to look into before tonight."

"A workaholic, Sam," Dean yells after him as he walks away. "That's what you are!"

* * *

Sam parks the Impala and grabs their duffel bags from the trunk, glancing around as he jogs to the door marked with a faded 3. Jamming the key into the lock, he looks over his shoulder and opens the door, closing and locking it behind himself.

He flicks on the light and the air conditioning and throws their backpacks onto the beds. He's a little pressed for time so he grabs the thick, manila folder packed with research files from his laptop case quickly and lays it open on the bed. A few of the sheets he takes out and pins up on the walls with tacks. He boots up his computer and sets it on the little, round dining table. It's still open to the last page he visited...though it has nothing to do with sirens.

A moment later, he feels a presence in the room and turns, his heart jumping a little. "Give a guy a little warning, huh?"

Ruby sighs wearily, her arms folded across her chest. "Hey, you asked me to come and I'm here. What do you want, Sam?" Her tone is irritable and clipped as usual, her grey eyes skimming along the walls, looking at the tacked up sheets. "What is all this stuff?"

"A cover." Sam goes to his computer and taps across the keyboard, moving urgently. "I don't think Dean will be back for a few hours but just in case he pops by, I want it to look like I've been busy."

Ruby raises her eyebrows. "Wow. Lying to mother hen. Whatever this is, it must be important."

Sam scowls at her from over top the computer screen. "Just shut up and listen, okay?"

She sighs but doesn't say anymore.

Sam straightens from the laptop and walks over to Ruby. Something about his posture, the way his expression holds no trust or warmth, makes her shift uncomfortably. "I know you lied," he says, voice hard as stone. "About being able to save Dean from the Crossroads Deal."

Her expression changes very little but fear flashes through her eyes. "I had to. You wouldn't talk to me otherwise-"

"I said shut up. I don't want your excuses or apologies."

"Then what do you want?" The colt is no where to be seen but that doesn't mean he doesn't have it on him. Is he planning to kill her? Not that she cares much if he does.

Sam looks...on edge. Amped, like he hasn't slept in days and is living on caffine. By the shadows under his eyes, that might even be true. "I want you to help me," he says.

This doesn't sound good. "Help you with what?"

Sam turns away suddenly, grabbing a sheet of paper tucked at the very bottom of the siren-research folder. He shoves it into Ruby's hands, looking half sick and very ashamed. "I can't do it myself," he says softly. "You know this stuff, right? You used to be a witch. Besides, you promised you'd save Dean so you kind of owe me."

He's rambling but Ruby doesn't really hear him. She's too busy staring at the spell in her hands. "This is...some pretty dark stuff, Sam."

"I know."

She looks up. "Like even darker than what I was into. And trust me, I was no little miss sunshine in my day. This is some old school black magic...and a real long shot on top of that. Probably won't even work."

"I _know_." He rakes a hand through his hair and sinks down onto the edge of the bed. "Look, I don't like this anymore than you do. I've spent pretty much my entire life hunting down people who use this stuff for the wrong reasons. Dean would _kill me_ if he knew... But this is not a wrong reason, Ruby. I'm just..." His gaze drops to the floor. "I'm just trying to save my brother. He's almost out of time...and he's scared. And I'm scared."

Ruby exhales deeply, dropping the paper on the edge of the table. This is so not what she expected when Sam asked her to come here. Help them fight a monster, sure. Questions about the war, why not. But this? Helping Sam Winchester cast a black magic spell is a little like helping Bambi hide a dead body. Still... "I'm not gonna say no," Ruby says coolly, ignoring the wetness in his eyes. "It's none of my business what you do or don't do to save Dean. But for my own interests, I have to warn you, Sam. There can't be any hesitation on your part. You have to be sure."

He nods obediently, standing from the bed. "I am sure."

"No. I mean _one hundred_ percent, no regrets, _absolute_ certainty. Black magic isn't tarot cards or palm reading or balloon animals. You have to believe in it, you have to _mean_ it. Any fear, any shame, anything at all and you can kiss you ass goodbye because demons can sense that kind of weakness."

He's nodding along and, shockingly, he does look certain. All the shame and fear she saw earlier is gone. "I'm sure," he says again. His hazel-green eyes are steady. Cold as stone.

Ruby shrugs with one shoulder. "Then let's get to it. There's a really good chance this won't work but you're already the antichrist, so how much worse can it get?"

* * *

They find a nice, quiet place in the motel basement to preform the ritual. Ruby uses her telekinesis to jam the lock on the door so they won't be disturbed and Sam carries the bag of tools to a dark place beside the hot water heater, laying it down. Ruby joins him a moment later, lighting the candles.

He doesn't look as sure as he did upstairs.

"Sam," she says quietly.

"I'm sure."

She scoffs lightly. "If I can sense it, so can every other demon in a thirty mile radius. Upstairs and down. Get yourself together."

He swallows, taking a breath, and his composure returns. "I'm good."

"If you say so." She kneels down and opens the bag, taking out everything they'll need. Chalk, coffin nails, graveyard dirt, sprigs of dried cypress greens, lobelia flowers, nettle, and human bones. Ruby busily arranges them in the proper order. When it's done, the ritual board looks almost like a devil's trap, but with a few key differences in the markings.

Now comes the fun part.

She reaches into the bag and pulls out the last object. A long, serrated knife. Ruby has no qualms cutting up her host body apparently as she drags the blade vertically up her arm without a flinch, turning it over and letting her demon blood pour over the chalk lines.

Without trying to stem the bleeding in any way, she hands the knife to Sam. "No fear," she reminds him softly. "It's too late to stop now. Think about Dean."

Before she's even finished speaking, Sam cuts his arm, holding back the pained grimace, and lets his blood pour over the ritual items as well.

" _Ad ligandum eos pariter eos coram me_ ," he says lowly, reading off the paper beside him. Instantly, the candles blow out and they're plunged back into complete darkness.

The basement grows frigidly cold, Sam and Ruby's breath misting in the air before their faces. The floor rumbles slightly beneath them but other than that, nothing happens.

Sam glances around, looking for a demon or any other sign that the spell worked. Even Ruby frowns eventually and starts running through the ritual in her head to be sure they didn't forget something. But no, they have everything, they did everything right.

The spell was supposed to summon the demon of a former witch, like Ruby.

She was burned at the stake in the 1600's for necromancy and drinking the blood of children and now, as a demon after rotting in Hell for centuries, she gets her kicks striking deals with humans to bring back their loved ones from anywhere: Heaven, Hell, Purgatory. She can snatch a soul from anywhere.

All she asks for in return is a little taste of the summoner's blood...and hope they don't die in the process.

That's _if_ she shows.

"You ever meet this demon?" Sam asks softly, searching the shadows of the dark basement.

"No," Ruby says with a roll of her eyes. "Hell's not exactly the place for a meet-n-greet."

"Right. Sorry."

"It is kind of rude, though," Ruby yells into the shadows. "We're here to make a deal! Are you gonna show or not?"

A skittering sound behind them draws their attention. Sam and Ruby both whip around at the noise, like nails on the concrete floor.

The old woman stands with her back in the corner, peering at them from behind the water heater. Only half of her face is visible.

Her eye is almost colorless, the eye of a blind woman. Her skin is pale, her face gaunt and wrinkled, hair silver and wiry, hanging around her face in tangled knots. Her dress is that of the old pilgrims, only burned and left in tatters.

Sam and Ruby rise slowly from their spots by the altar.

"Are you Marguerite," Sam asks cautiously.

The old woman doesn't answer but she blinks and her eyes flash black. Good enough.

"I'm here to make a deal," he continues. "For my brother."

"Your brother isn't dead yet, boy," Marguerite snarls.

"No, he isn't." Sam offers a tight smile. "But you're famous. A master of necromancy. You must know who holds my brother's contract."

"You're wrong. Why should I care which demons make dealings with humans? I have my own business affairs to conduct."

"Oh come on," Ruby snaps. "We know you can help us. What's it gonna take to save Dean Winchester?"

"Death," the demon replies quickly. "For me to help you, Dean Winchester has to die, go to Hell, and then I can pull him back. That's _if_ the demon holding his control doesn't stop me. And by the way, he will."

"So you _do_ know who it is then," Sam says. "Please. Just tell me his name. I can handle it from there and I'll never bother you again. I swear."

"You seem awfully desperate, boy," Marguerite says, a smile pulling at her withered face, revealing long, craggy black teeth. "Does your brother really mean so much to you?"

"Sam," Ruby says, taking a step backwards. "We should end this now. She isn't going to help you."

"Yes," he says, ignoring her. "He's all I have."

"All you have? How sad. Yes, I think I can help you."

"Sam...!"

"In exchange for some blood."

"That's fine," Sam tells her. "Just tell me the demon's name."

"I don't know his name...but I can send you to speak with him." She smiles.

"What?"

The old demon puts out her hand and Sam's vision goes black. Ruby watches in terror as the bluish tendrils of his soul begin to seep out of his mouth. His face goes white and his eyes roll back.

That bitch! She's going to send Sam's soul to Hell!

Ruby's eyes go black as she throws the old bitch with her mind. Marguerite hits the wall, grunting. When she rouses, her eyes are coal black and she's pissed as a hornet.

Sam's soul returns to his body and he collapses to the floor as she and Marguerite clash.

The wrinkled old whore slams her into a wall. An icy hand tipped with yellowed nails grabs Ruby's head and smashes it into the concrete once, twice, three times until she falls to her knees.

By the time she rouses, Marguerite is back on Sam. This time, she's after her payment, drinking from the open wound on his forearm.

"Screw this," Ruby hisses. With a single telekinetic push, the altar is sent flying a hundred different directions.

Marguerite screams as she dissolves into black smoke and is sucked back to Hell.

"Sam," Ruby pants, getting unsteadily to her feet. Blood trickles down the back of her neck from the wound on her head. She staggers to Sam, who is just waking up, and kicks him in the ribs.

"Ow! What the hell?"

"Get up," she snaps. "The demon wasn't in a playful mood so I'm leaving."

* * *

They trudge down the hall to the room, Ruby pissed off and Sam sulky and silent. "You can't mention this to Dean," he eventually says, one hand on the doorknob. "He'd freak."

"And you don't think he's gonna ask how you got all banged up?"

"It's just a cut on the arm. I'll say...I cut it hopping a fence while I was looking for the siren."

"Oh yeah, I'm sure he'll believe that."

"Hey, anything is better than telling him I tried to make a pact with a four hundred year old demon...and failed miserably." Sam pushes the door open and while he doesn't immediately see him, Ruby does. She stops in her tracks, caught like a deer in headlights. Sam sees her and she can almost see his heart stop.

He turns.

Dean is just hanging up his phone, and his expression is hard as rock. "Just researching the siren, huh, Sammy?" He inclines his head at her with cold eyes. "Ruby."

Shit.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

 **A/N:**

sxmmy: **Ba dum tss! lol**

Minion79: **Ikr, I actually just ended season 3 (I AM TRAUMATIZED) and started season 4...and I am already way more stressed than in the first two seasons...(plus I've somehow managed to spoil pretty much everything for myself already, so I know what you're going through lmfao sigh). Thanks for the review! :D**

Kas3y: **Thanks :)**

* * *

Maybe this is why Dad didn't bring them to the beach a lot as kids.

Dean limps back to the motel, afraid to let his legs brush together, wincing at the feeling of his sunglasses on his face. His skin-his damn, pasty Winchester skin-is a startling shade of pink. He fell asleep for two measley hours on the beach and now look! He's a goddamn cherry lollipop.

As he waddles up the sidewalk outside the room, he hears the air conditioner humming inside-bless Sammy-and unlocks the door. "Sam," he calls out, gingerly kicking off his shoes. "You here?"

No answer. But by the looks of it, he's been here. And busy. The walls are littered with research, and his computer is open on the table but locked in sleep mode. There's no note or anything hinting as to where he went.

Eh, he probably just went to grab a bite to eat.

Dean lowers himself carefully onto the sofa, turning on pay per view. His gaze doesn't hang there long, however, his mind drifting to the job. Sirens are nasty little SOB's. Half woman, half bird, though their outward appearence would never suggest it. As a rule, they're extremely sensual and attractive women capable of almost anything thanks to their hypnotic voices.

That's the current hypothesis regarding the three drowned men, anyway. It's the right setting-a party town full of gorgeous women, nex to the ocean-and the right MO: all the victims were young, handsome men. All drowned without any sign of a struggle. All with traces of lip stick found on their mouths or faces, like they'd been kissed just before drowning.

Too bad Dad's journal doesn't seem to know much about sirens. To Dean's knowledge, he never faced an actual siren. They're not a real common occurance anymore. A dying breed, thanks to pirate-age hunters.

Still, there is one person who might know something. Dean carefully draws his cell phone out of his pocket, wincing at the sun burn, and dials Bobby's number. It rings twice before picking up.

 _"Hey, Dean,"_ he says. _"How's it going?"_

"It's going, Bobby," he says with a chuckle. "How're you holding up? Anything interesting?"

 _"Nahh, just about to head out on a werewolf job. Pretty cut and dry stuff. What about you boys?"_

"Actually, we could use your help."

 _"Surprise, surprise."_

Dean laughs and shakes his head. "Alright, asshole. We've got three victims. All male, all mid twenties and thirties. Young, good looking, professional-types. All found fully clothed, face down in the ocean. No sign of a struggle, smears of lip stick on their mouths."

 _"Huh. Sounds like a siren to me."_

"Yep, that's what we were thinking."

 _"Alright, boys, I'll see if I can get anyone on it. Where did you say this was?"_

Dean frowns. "Wait, what? Get someone on it?"

 _"Dean,"_ Bobby says slowly. _"You did call me to get a female hunter out there as backup, right?"_

He makes a face at the phone. "No, why would I do? What are you talking about, Bobby?"

 _"Oh, you idjits. Didn't your daddy ever teach you boys a damn thing?"_ He sighs. Dean can almost see him rubbing his head wearily. _"Sirens are masters at luring healthy, young men to their deaths. That's what they do, it's their version of golf. Even your Dad wasn't too stubborn to take one on by himself."_

Even Dad? "Alright well...what're you thinking?"

 _"I think you boys oughta sit tight and wait till I can find someone to send after you. Can you do that?"_

"Yeah, yeah, sure. I'll call Sam and bring him back."

 _"Bring him back? Back from where? Don't tell me you separated!"_

"No, no, I was...uh, investigating the beach and I thought Sam was back at the motel doing research but I just got back and he isn't here. I'm sure he's just out getting food or something. I'll call him."

 _"You do that. I'll see if I can't wrangle someone up."_

"Thanks, Bobby. Talk to you later." Dean hangs up, frowning at the wall. He stands from the couch, suddenly uneasy, and paces toward the door. He's just tapping out Sam's number when he hears voices coming toward the room.

"You can't mention this to Dean. He'd freak." It's Sam. But who the hell is he talking to? Can't mention what?

"And you don't think he's gonna ask how you got all banged up?"

"It's just a cut on the arm. I'll say...I cut it hopping a fence while I was looking for the siren."

"Oh yeah, I'm sure he'll believe that."

"Hey, anything is better than telling him I tried to make a pact with a four hundred year old demon...and failed miserably." The door creaks open and, while Sam doesn't immediately see him, the person he's with does.

Ruby's wide grey eyes instantly lock with his. Her blonde hair is messy and there's a bruise forming on her face, dirt and dust smattering her jacket. Sam looks mostly unharmed, except for all the blood on his shirt and jeans. His arm has been sliced open and poorly bandaged with a wadded up dish rag.

A wound he apparently received...trying to make a deal with a pissed off, ancient, demon. Doesn't take a genius or three years at Stanford to guess what he was trying to do, either.

Sam sees Ruby's expression and whips around, his mouth falling open at the sight of his brother.

Dean snaps his phone shut and scowls at the two of them. "Just researching the siren, huh, Sammy? Ruby." He hopes his expression reads "you are so screwed" because they are. They really, really are.

"Dean, I can explain-" Sam takes a step into the room before his brother turns on him with a hard look, stopping him in his tracks.

"Shut up," Dean says. "You." He points at Ruby. "Get out. And if I ever see your face again, I'll put a hole in it."

She holds his gaze for a moment, then sighs lightly and shrugs. "Fine." She turns for the door. "See you around, Sam."

"No you won't," Dean says before Sam can reply. She disappears in the blink of an eye and Sam is alone with his brother. Trapped on the threshold under Dean's crushing stare.

"Dean-" he tries again, only to be silenced.

"So that's what it's come to now, Sammy? Sneaking around with Ruby? Keeping secrets from me? Lying to my face?"

"I wasn't-I didn't mean to lie-"

"Really? Cause didn't I just hear you tell Ruby you were gonna lie about how you cut your arm?"

Sam passes a hand over his face. "I'm just trying to save your life, Dean." He sounds as tired as he looks, ragged and worn down.

"Did you look into the sirens _at all_ , Sam? Even once?"

"Yeah, of course I did!"

"Really. Cause usually, one of the first things you do when we find a creature we haven't faced before is call Bobby. And see I just got off the phone with him. Turns out we're not supposed to go after these things alone." Dean's smile is crooked, his eyes still hard. "Anything else you wanna lie about?"

Sam opens his mouth, then closes it. He chuckles humorlessly, shaking his head. "Look, I did what I did to save you from your deal. And I'm sure as Hell not gonna apologize for it."

"I don't want your _damn apologies_ , Sam! I want you to stop sneaking around with demons and lying to me! I'm just trying to keep you safe-"

"Dammit, Dean, you don't have to protect me! That's the whole problem! That's what got you into this mess in the first place!"

They're both yelling now, so loud the person in the next room bangs on the wall.

"I've _accepted my death_ , Sam! Why can't you?"

"You haven't _accepted it_ , you're in denial! Your scared shitless to go to Hell but you think you deserve it so you're just gonna let it happen! Now, I'm trying to save you but I guess you hate yourself so much that you'll do anything you can to stop me!"

"That is not true, Sam, and you know it. But there's a right way to go about this-"

"What way, Dean? Your time is almost out and I'm getting a little desperate here! So if you see some way out of this, now is the time to tell me!"

Finally Dean lowers his voice. Sam's eyes have gone misty and finally he can see how exhausted his brother really is. Who knows how many hours he's spent on this obsession? How many days. "You've just gotta let me go, Sam."

Sam turns away with a dry laugh. "Yeah, that would be your answer."

"Sam-"

"I'm not letting you go, Dean. No. No way in Hell."

"Look, Sammy, I knew what I was getting myself into when I made that deal. I'm okay with it. I've really accepted it, _really_. I don't _want_ to go to Hell, obviously, but...there's nothing we can do and it's killing you trying to save me. I don't want that, man." He tries to touch his brother's shoulder but Sam yanks away.

"I don't care what you want," Sam says darkly. Suddenly he turns back to the door and throws it open.

"Dammit, Sam," Dean sighs irritably. "Don't storm out on me!"

"Why not? You gonna tell me that if I leave, I can't come back? Just like Dad?" Sam's face is cold but his eyes watery, just like the day he left for Stanford.

Dean's throat swells thinking about it but mostly he can't believe Sam would throw that in his face.

"I get it, Dean," he continues softly. "Really, I do. You've always felt like it was your job to protect me because Mom was gone and Dad was never around. Then he gave his soul for you and you felt guilty, so you gave yours for me. Well no matter how hard you try, you're not Dad, Dean. You can't tell me what to do. But you are _all I have_ and if I want to give everything I've got trying to save you, then you can't stop me."

With that, he pulls the door shut behind him.

Dean stands in the dark motel room, alone, Sam's words echoing in his head, punctuated by the slam of the door. "Dammit, Sam..."

He grabs a glass from the table and chucks it at the wall, the shattered pieces falling to the floor.

* * *

Sam doesn't mean to stay out long. Mostly, he spends his time in one of the local libraries looking into siren lore, giving Dean (and himself) time to cool down. He searches the internet, books, even chats with a mythology teacher brushing up on his Greek myths for a lecture. He finds nothing he didn't already know.

No weakness, no weapons that can be used to kill them.

Well they're not _immortal_ so something must hurt them.

Sam locks himself in the bathroom to call Bobby so his conversation won't be overheard. It rings out with no answer. Bobby must be busy.

Across from the stalls, there's a small window overlooking the parkling lot. Tucked up in the rows of bookshelves, Sam must have lost more hours than he thought. The sky is dark now, streetlights dotting the distant beach. He pauses and checks his phone. No missed calls, not even a text.

Dean's still pissed.

Sam leaves the bathroom, smuggles a few books into his pack, and slips out unnoticed. The motel is about a ten minute walk from the library, part of which takes him uncomfortably close to the beach, so he'd better get moving before it gets any later. Most of the victims were last seen around three or four in the morning. He glances down at his watch. One a.m.

The library sits just a stone's throw from the boardwalk, where their motel eventually connects. Sam jogs down the concrete steps to the wooden walkway, keeping his head down. He's not alone, despite the hour. A handful of tourists and late night partiers dot the sandy waterside, bonfires burning, radios blaring. A young woman jogs past Sam with an iPod in hand and he looks over his shoulder to be sure she keeps going.

Eventually, he fishes his cell out of his pocket and flips the screen open, grimaces, then snaps it shut.

He can't blame Dean for being angry. What he did was stupid.

What he said was even stupider. How the hell did he think it was okay to throw all that in Dean's face?

He opens the phone again and stares at the generic blue wallpaper for a second, glowing in the darkness, then shuts it. What would he say? What's the point anyway? He'll be at the motel in five minutes. Better to be a man and apologize to Dean's face instead of over the damned phone.

He sticks it back in his pocket.

Then takes it out again.

It's almost two in the morning and Dean hasn't even tried to make contact? What if something's wrong? Maybe he went out after the siren and something happened...

Sam punches out his brother's speed dial and holds it up to his ear, listening to it ring and ring.

 _"Yeah?"_ Dean's tone is hard and clipped. Still, Sam is only relieved.

"Hey, you okay?"

 _"Uh, yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"_ He sounds kind of groggy, like he'd been asleep.

"Oh-no reason. I just thought...uh, nevermind."

 _"Wha-jesus, man, it's almost two a.m. What the hell've you been doing?"_

"I was working."

 _"Working?"_ Sam can almost hear Dean's eyebrows going up.

"Researching. I'm not stupid. Or suicidal."

 _"Alright well...you on your way back or what? You learn anything? Wanna meet up somewhere?"_

"No, nothing new anyway. I'll be there in five and we can talk strategy."

 _"There's no strategy. According to Bobby, we shouldn't even be on this job. He's gonna send someone out to help us."_

Sam makes a face. "You really think that's necessary?"

 _"It is to Bobby."_

Sam sighs and shrugs lamely. "Fine. See you then." He snaps the phone shut and stuffs it back in his pocket.

That's when he hears the scream.

* * *

Dean yawns and checks his watch. Five minutes has come and gone. What the hell is keeping Sam?

Getting up, he wanders to the door and peers out, expecting to see his lanky little brother somewhere in sight...but there's nothing. It's pitch black out except for the pools of the streetlights and the occasional dot of fire light on the beach.

Where the hell is he?

Dean grabs his phone and hits redial.

The phone rings out for ages.

 _"This is Sam, leave a message."_ Beep.

Dean shuts the phone and stands there in the doorway, the distinct sense of dread worming its way into his chest. He suddenly feels cold despite the heat.

Where the hell is Sammy?


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

 **A/N: Okay my guilty pleasure in this show right now is Ruby. Obviously she's a shady little thing & is probably gonna do some horrible stuff in the future, knowing this show (NO SPOILERS PLEASE) but I love her attitude and the way she protects Sam (for some reason) and the way she and Dean butt heads...**

Minion79: **I love my little angel! He's terrifying right now but such soft, baby eyes... I can't wait for him to find honey bees and eat PB &J! And yeah, I'm trying to watch the show slowly but I'm already on 4x04...ughhhhhh...**

Kas3y: **;)**

monMona: **Thanks for the sweet review! I'm so glad you're liking it so far!**

* * *

The brunette staggers out of no where, almost crashing right into Sam. Her eyes are wide, mascara streaked down her face. She's shaking like a leaf.

"Please," she gasps, whipping a look over her shoulder. "Please, you've gotta help me!"

"Woah, slow down," Sam says calmly, peering behind her. "What happened?"

"There was this guy-" She chokes a sob. "He-he grabbed me! I thought he was gonna-but I got away. He took my purse but..." Tears stream down her face and Sam pulls her gently away from the alleyway she appeared out of.

"It's okay," he says. "I have a motel room just a block from here. I'll take you there and call the cops for you."

"No," she chokes. "No cops!"

Sam makes a face, pulling back slightly. She sees his reaction and pales a little.

"I'm...I'm, uh..." Her face reddens. "I work with... _men_. Cops don't exactly like me..." Her desperate sobs turn to stifled hiccups and she rubs a hand across her eyes, streaking her makeup further. "Please...I just want to go home..."

He doesn't like this...

Something about her feels...off. Yet he finds himself nodding anyway. "Okay," he says. "Do you have a car nearby?"

"Yes. Yes, just by the beach. We can almost see it from here." The more she speaks, the more he believes her... Even the rational side of him that feels a twist in his gut every time those strikingly blue eyes meet his. "Please, can you just walk me there? It's not far..."

 _No._ "Yeah, sure." _Don't!_

She smiles shakily and loops her arm through his, clinging close to his side as they turn away from the motel and head toward the beach...

* * *

Dean's boots thump on the wooden boardwalk, arms swinging purposefully at his sides. He's got a gun tucked in his waistband and a knife in his jacket, neither of which will do jack squat against a siren, but he doesn't quite feel right without them.

He tries Sam's phone for the fifth time as he reaches the end of the walkway, his heart squeezing in full panic mode.

Nothing. No answer and Sam is still no where to be found. Dammit! He knew he should have went the other way.

He turns on his heel and runs back toward the motel. If the siren did get Sam, she won't have taken him too far at least. They always kill in the ocean.

* * *

"So what's your name," Sam asks without really knowing why. It's like he's drugged... Lights are too bright and his head feels...fuzzy.

"Amelia," she tells him. "You?"

"Sam." He can't stop walking beside her. Can't take his arm away, even when she slips her hand into his and leans her head on his shoulder. The more she speaks, the dizzier he gets. The smell of her hair, so close to his face, is intoxicating. And not in a good way.

"Sam," she says, smiling lightly. All the tears are gone. She's not even trying anymore. "That's a nice name." They step off the boardwalk, their shoes sinking in the sand.

A gust of misty ocean wind clears his senses for half a second and he rips his arm out of her grasp, stumbling like a drunk man. "I know what you are," he blurts out, staggering to a stop. "A siren."

She's unphased, the smile never dropping from her face. "And you're a hunter." His moment of clarity painfully slips away and she slinks back to his side as he sways, moaning slightly. "Sam Winchester," she continues. "Who would have thought I'd be walking side by side with the famous Sam Winchester tonight?" Amelia gives a little laugh and leans her head against him again, filling his head with the smell of sea salt. "And so the hunter becomes the hunted," she muses. "How ironic."

Hand in hand, they walk to the shoreline, feeling the waves lap around their ankles. Sam is barely on his feet. He sees three moons when he looks up and there's a constant, high pitched ringing in his ears.

"It's too bad actually," she says, leading him further into the water. "My sister would have loved to meet you."

Sister? There's more than one?

 _Ring! Ring! Ring!_

She sighs deeply, yanking the phone from his pocket. "How many times is he going to call you?" Reeling back her arm, she throws the phone as hard as she can and it dips into the water a dozen yards out. "Now, let's-"

"Sammy!"

Amelia jumps, whipping around. Dean's voice is distant, painfully so, but enough to startle her. "Shit," she hisses, squinting into the distance.

Now would be the perfect time to attack her...if only he could function.

The siren grabs his hand. "Change of plans," she whispers, pulling back to shore. "You're gonna get to meet Brooke, after all."

* * *

Dean passes the motel, hitting redial. This time it doesn't even ring before going straight to voicemail. "Sam," he yells, hopping the short fence onto the beach. His boots sink in the sand and he stumbles. "Sammy!"

A few party animals sitting at a nearby bonfire look up at his shouts and grumble irritably, their whole camp smelling like weed and booze. "Hey, buddy, why don't you keep your voice down," one of the douchey guys says.

"Why don't you mind your own goddamn business," Dean snaps. He storms past them, searching the dark silhouettes on the beach. No one is in the water, at least not that he can see.

Whether that's good or not, though, he isn't sure...

Suddenly, in the parking lot just above him, tail lights flash on and a car's engine revs. Dean turns just in time to see a sporty little red porsche peeling out. The driver is a woman. A woman who stares blatantly right at him in the rearview mirror as she fishtails onto the road.

He can see someone slumped drunkenly in the back seat...

Motherf-it's Sam! He'd know that hippie hair anywhere.

" _Son of a bitch_!" He whips out his gun, firing at the tires. The bullets pellet the asphalt, chunks of pavement flying.

The beach goers scream and run for cover.

Dean sprints after the car, hopping the fence, but it's a lost cause. The car screeches around the corner into the darkness and Dean is left standing on the boardwalk, panting, holding a smoking gun in his hand as the sound of police sirens wail in the distance.

* * *

He clears off the boardwalk as quickly as possible, climbing a wire fence into the back lot of some beach-side restaurant. The dumpsters are packed with black, plastic bags and stink of rotting seafood. Dean stows his gun back under his shirt and climbs the other side of the fence, looking both ways down the street for red and blue lights before dropping down.

No sign of the cops, but no sign of the siren's red car either. Shit.

No time to stop and panic so Dean runs across the road, ducking into an alleyway between fashion boutiques decorated with sea shells and surfboards. The wailing police cruisers are close now. No doubt those douches on the beach will make him out to be some kind of raving lunatic.

In five minutes, he's far enough away from the waterfront not to be able to hear the sirens anymore. Problem is, the motel is back there. And so is Baby, along with all their gear.

Dean snaps open his phone to call Bobby when headlights cut down the road. Shit, it might be cops. He presses himself against the nearest building and puts his head down, acting as if he's texting and hoping the glow of the screen won't draw too much attention.

Unfortunately, the car pulls to a stop beside him.

"Hey, genius."

Dean frowns. Looks up.

Ruby smiles dryly at him from the drivers seat of the Impala. "You gonna stand there all night or are we gonna go save Sam?"

* * *

This is wrong.

This is so, so, _so, so_ wrong in _so_ many ways.

Dean sits like a spoiled child in the passenger seat, arms crossed over his chest as Ruby smirks to herself, hands on the wheel. "It's a nice ride," she comments, not missing a chance to press his buttons. "Could use a wash though."

"Shut up, bitch."

"Aw, what's the matter? Your skirt all rustled because a girl is driving your car?"

"You're not a girl."

"Then I've been using the wrong bathroom."

"You're a _demon_ ," Dean says. "My 'skirt is rustled' because a demon is driving my car. Actually, I have a problem that a demon is near me at all."

"A demon that's trying her damndest to save your brother," she reminds him angrily. "So I'd be a little nicer if I were you."

She turns Baby down a darkened street, miles from the beach in a little residential neighborhood. "How do you know where you're going," Dean asks, peering out the window.

"I have my ways," she says cryptically, rolling her eyes when Dean glares at her. "Demon? Former witch? Hello? Do you have any brains at all?"

"Oh I can't wait to find Sam so I can finally slap that smart little mouth of yours..."

"Watch it or you'll be looking for him alone."

They pull up against the curb and Ruby puts it in park, turning off the car. "You see that house up there? Teal paneling, white trim?"

"Yeah. That where the siren's keeping Sam?"

"Yup," Ruby steps out of the Impala, quietly closing the door behind her. Dean follows suit, catching the keys when she tosses them over.

"How'd you even get these," he asks, tucking them into his pocket. "I left them in the room. We had salt by all the entrances."

"I had the maid let me in," she says, grinning at his annoyed growl. "Her cart broke the salt lines. Also," she digs out a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket and hands it over. "You owe the motel extra for making such a mess."

"Remind me not to tip the maid..." He balls up the receipt and throws it on the ground.

They walk normally, side by side like old friends until they hit the edge of the teal house's lawn. Then, glancing around, they drop low and sneak to the backyard.

"Hey," Dean whispers as hop the fence onto the back patio. "If you knew where they were, why'd you come to get me? You're a demon _and_ a chick, which makes you more than a match for some skanky siren. Plus you got that mean knife of yours."

Ruby tests the back door, then uses her telekenisis to open the lock. "Because there's more than one siren," she whispers. "Taking them out alone would have been annoying. So instead, you're gonna grab Sam while I hold them off."

The house is two stories, plus a basement if the window wells are any indication. "Where is he?"

Ruby flashes him an irritated look. "I don't know. What do I look like, a GPS? Go look for him."

Dean grumbles as they slip inside, Ruby drawing her knife. They've let themselves in through the kitchen, which is dark and empty. The cupboards stand open, the shelves empty. The table is covered in dust and the oven has spiderwebs.

Dean grimaces. Dad's journal said he wasn't sure what sirens actually fed on, whether it was the lifeforce of their drowned victims, or their actual souls themselves... Either way, they need to get to Sam before he becomes these bitches' midnight snack.

From there on, it's silent. Ruby goes one way and he goes the other, feeling naked without a weapon and even more vulnerable knowing the only backup he's got is _Ruby_.

If he were a skanky monster, where would he keep his lunch?

Dean carefully pushes open a door, peering inside. Empty. Not even furniture, just dust and cobwebs. Wow, these broads are really living the dream.

Just as he's about to check another room, Dean hears a thump overhead. He freezes, listening. A moment later, Ruby materializes beside him with a finger to her lips. She waves him over and he follows.

The stairs are carpeted, thankfully, so they slip up undetected. Ruby and her fancy demon-killing knife take the lead as they head for the door with light spilling out underneath. Up here, they can make out the sound of running water and the tap of bare feet on tiles. Two women are talking lowly with one another but their words are indiscernible.

Ruby takes the doorknob, looking behind her to be sure Dean is ready.

He nods.

She waits just a heart beat, then throws the door open.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

 **A/N: Last chapter! Enjoy!**

Kas3y: **Thanks :D**

Kathy: **Thanks for the review! I'm glad you're liking it!**

Minion79: **Lmao, no I can't tell you how many times I've hummed the opening instrumental while writing this lol**

* * *

The girls scream as Ruby charges inside, brandishing a knife. As soon as he lays eyes on them, Dean knows they've got the wrong place... He grabs Ruby, pulling her back, though she has already lowered her weapon.

The girls are barely older than sixteen, wide eyed and terrified. "Please don't hurt us! We didn't know anyone else was here! We were just-just having some fun..." The water in the old house runs brown, but pours out loudly enough to conceal their previous chanting.

There's a pentagram drawn on the floor, red candles lit around them. The girls are both dressed in pajamas with hoodies thrown on over top. Looks like they snuck away from home to come play witch...

"Nice goin', Ruby," Dean says under his breath. "Some all-powerful witch you are..."

"Shut up," she snarls, roughly shoving the girls aside. She snuffs out the candles and streaks the painted pentagram with the heel of her boot. "Get out," she snaps at the girls. "Get out and if I ever find out you're practicing witchcraft again, I'll drag your pathetic little souls to Hell myself." Just as puncuation, she flashes her eyes solid black.

The teenagers scream again and bolt out of the bathroom, tripping over themselves on their way down the steps and out the door.

"Wow, talk about tough love," Dean remarks. "Can't tell if I should be pissed or touched."

Ruby glares at him, eyes still dark. "Shut up," she says again. "I don't care what the hell happens to them but their pathetic little spell threw me off."

"Threw you off? So can you find Sam or not?"

"Yeah, yeah, hang on..." While Ruby mutters the spell under her breath, Dean wanders away-he friggin hates witches-and takes out his phone, redialing Sam's number.

 _"This is Sam, leave a message."_ Beep.

"Dammit..."

Where are you, Sammy?

* * *

Sam comes back to his senses slowly, whatever effect the siren's voice had on him diminishing gradually after she left.

When he finally comes to, he's somewhere dark, tied to a chair. There's a gag in his mouth and it takes him a long time to realize the swaying feeling in his gut isn't just normal dizziness. The room is actually swaying.

He can hear the muffled squawks of seagulls and the creaking of wooden planks, stretching and bending against the gentle lap of the waves. Those two sirens are no where to be seen. Or heard, thank goodness.

Sam struggles as quietly as he can in case they're nearby, reaching into his waistband. He pulls out the little blade and goes to work on the ropes binding his wrists behind his back. If he can just get them free, he might stand a chance of escaping.

* * *

"Dean? Let's go, I've got him." Ruby slips the knife into her jacket, not waiting for Dean to follow, though he's right on her heels the whole time.

"Where," he asks.

"The docks."

"Son of a-I just left the damn docks!"

"No, not that beach. Another one, a private one, a few miles from here. They're keeping Sam on a boat, below deck." She pushes open the back door, hopping the patio and running for the car. Dean beats her to the driver's seat this time.

"Well is he okay? Is he hurt?"

"He's fine for now. We should hurry though, the bitches are playing with him..."

* * *

Sam jumps at the creak overhead. He stops cutting and listens, hearing nothing but the pounding of his own heart and the creaking of the boat. Where the hell are they? They went to all this trouble to get him and now they're just...what? Hanging out? It doesn't feel right.

He cuts faster, nipping his own hands a few times, but eventually the rope snaps and he shakes his hands free. He cuts away the duct tape around his waist and then moves to his ankles, freeing them swiftly.

As soon as he stands up, he hears a woman laugh.

Strong hands shove him hard from behind, slamming him against the wall.

"I'm impressed, Sam," she says, her lips brushing his ear. "Keeping a little blade in your waistband was pretty clever. No wonder you brothers are so famous..."

"So what, you're just messing with me? Let me get free then tie me right back up?" His struggles are in vain. She's much stronger than he is.

"Oh honey," she whispers. He shivers when she kisses his earlobe. "I'm not tying you back up..." She runs her fingers through his hair, slowly, almost sensually. The moment-had there been one-would have been ruined though, as she grabs a fistful of hair and yanks his head back, slamming it against the side of the boat once, twice, three times.

He sees stars but doesn't fall. Blood pours from his nose as he grabs the hand in his hair, clamping down tight.

Before she can react, Sam wheels around with an elbow. It connects right into her temple and she yelps, falling sideways.

Sam stumbles as the boat rocks under his feet and his vision shimmers like static on a TV.

He has no weapon, other than the tiny box-cutter blade. He can't kill her.

Staggering away, he fumbles blindly in the dark, finding a ladder. The siren groans at his feet, pushing herself up.

"You son of a bitch," she pants.

Sam is just pushing the hatch overhead when it suddenly rips open and a heeled boot kicks him in the face.

He falls backwards off the ladder, landing hard on his spine.

"You okay, Amelia?" The second siren drops below deck without bothering with the ladder. She rises slowly, grinning in the low light.

"Just fine, Brooke." Amelia gets to her knees, spitting blood. "Oh sweetie, if you knocked out my tooth, I'm gonna send you back to your brother in tiny little pieces..."

Sam groans, trying to roll to his side. The second siren-Brooke-swaggers over to him. She puts a foot on either side of his chest and crouches down over him, smiling.

"Ooh, that looks like it hurt," she says, touching the spot on his cheek where her heel connected. "Thankfully it didn't damage your pretty, pretty face too much."

"Go to Hell," he says, grimacing at her laughter.

She grabs his chin, yanking his head painfully so he's looking right at her. "Someday," she chuckles. "But not today."

She kisses him hard and the world goes black before his eyes.

* * *

"So here's the plan," Ruby says as the Impala cruises down the dark side street, the crisp scent of salty ocean air rushing in through the open window.

"Woah, woah, why do you get to come up with the plan?"

She rolls her eyes. "Does it matter who comes up with the plan?"

"Yeah. To me."

"Oh yeah, I forgot. You have the self esteem of a acne-faced sixteen year old girl with daddy issues..."

"Listen, bitch-"

"No you listen, _bitch_. Saving Sam is just as important to me as it is to you, so why don't you shut your big, dumb mouth for five seconds so we can actually figure out how we're gonna get him back before the sirens eat his freaking soul?"

Dean growls, chewing on a comeback, but swallows it much to the distaste of his spiteful side. "Fine," he sighs. "What's your big plan?"

Ruby shifts in her seat, taking out the knife. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean sees her chew her lip for a second, obviously mulling over her next move very carefully... She then sets the all-killing blade on the dash.

"I'll go ahead," she says. "I'll get their attention and hopefully draw them away from Sam. You get in after me, take the blade in case I screw up, and get him somewhere safe."

Dean blinks, almost swerving Baby off the road at how long he gapes at her. "You're giving me your magic knife?"

"Lending," she says firmly. "I want it back." Then she's gone.

Dean turns back to the road just as the private beach comes into view. The moonlight glints off the intricate carving in the knife's blade and he shuts off the headlights, pulling quietly along the curb.

He grabs the knife, nodding to himself.

Then throws open the door.

* * *

Sam wakes at the worst possible time.

He feels light, weightless...and wet. Just as he opens his eyes, strong hands force him under the surface.

He kicks and thrashes, panic squeezing his chest when he realizes there's no air in his lungs.

The ocean is salty, burning his eyes, roaring in his ears. The siren is immune to the roll of the waves. As Sam is tossed and punched by the water, she stands perfectly still, a stone for the misting spray to swirl around. Unmoving.

She smiles at him through the water and her face is distorted. The other one is right behind her, grinning as well, holding his ankles.

They breathe deeply as he drowns and it's like the life is drained out of him. His fingers go numb and his heart flutters and skips in its rhythm.

That's when a red blur knocks away the second siren. His ankles splash into the water and he slips in the churning sand, fighting for decent footing.

His lungs burn and his head pounds. The bitch holding his head beneath the water is no longer looking at him. She's staring with wide, water-deformed eyes at whatever hit her sister.

Sam sweeps her leg and she falls beneath the waves.

He breaks the surface with a long, ragged gasp. Water pours down his face, his hair, soaks his clothes and makes him heavy. He wipes it from his eyes and blinks, gaping. "Ruby?" he chokes, coughing.

"Wakey, wakey, Sunshine," she yells, punching the siren to keep her down. "Time to haul ass!"

Sam manages to block the punch from the other siren. Instead of striking again, she throws her head real close, trying to kiss him...

Sam yanks away, shoving her back.

"Sammy!" Dean throws the knife and he catches it.

Amelia obviously doesn't know the blade is capable of. She laughs at the sight of it and launches herself at Sam, plunging the knife straight into her own gut. She stops, choking, convulsing.

"Amelia!" Brooke screams. Ruby grabs her, twisting her arm behind her back.

Amelia's eyes go blank and she slips off the blade, falling into the sea. The four of them watch as she dissolves into bloody foam, leaving the water around Sam dark red.

"You... _assholes_!" Brooke shrieks, kicking and clawing at Ruby. But the demon holds tight, keeping her still.

"Do it, Sam," Ruby urges. "Finish her."

"That was my sister, you _douchebag!_ "

"Sam!"

There are tears running Brooke's face. Furious, murderous, heartbroken tears. " _I'll kill you_ , you son of a bitch!"

"Sam, what are you doing?" Dean touches his arm, green eyes flicking across his face.

Sam grimaces, holding the knife loosely in his hand. "That was her sister," he whispers. "She just watched her sister die..."

"Sam," Ruby urges, grunting in her effort to keep the siren at bay.

Dean sighs softly, running a hand over his mouth. "Give it to me," he says. "I'll do it."

"Dean..."

"Sam, she's still a monster. She's still a killer. She has to die." He holds out his hand. "Come on, man. I'll take this one."

He shakes his head slowly. "No..." Sam grips the knife and turns to Brooke, who's furious cries have reduced to silent sobbing. Her head hangs against her chest, shoulders trembling. Sam grimaces, glancing up at Ruby, who watches him closely. "Brooke, right?" he asks softly.

She glares up at him through wet eyelashes.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I wish-I wish you hadn't seen that."

"Go to Hell, you son of a bitch."

He sighs shakily, angling the knife.

"And you know what?" He stops, looking back into her eyes. She's smiling again, a wicked, evil smile. "I hope the same thing happens to you," she hisses. "I hope someday you get to see your brother murdered in front of your very eyes. Torn apart in tiny, little, sloppy pieces. I hope I get to see him _in Hell_ -UGH."

Ruby lets her fall and they all stand and watch as she dissolves away. The water is blood red where the two sisters died.

Dean puts a hand on Sam's shoulder but he doesn't react in any way. All Sam can think of is the clock.

One month. That's all Dean has left.

* * *

"You sure you're okay?" Ruby and Sam stand by the Impala, talking quietly as Dean explains what went down to Bobby in the telephone booth beside the diner.

The sun has started to rise and they're all totally drained. Even Ruby's got bags under her eyes. Sam is wrapped in Dean's beach towel, a bunch of plastic bags spread over the seat so Baby's leather won't get wet...

"Yeah, I'm sure. They didn't really get a chance to do much..."

"That's not what I meant." Ruby looks up at Dean, then back down.

Sam releases a shaky breath. He shrugs with one shoulder, trying to pull of Dean's cool attitude when shit hits the fan. He's never been much good at it. "That spell was...kind of my last life raft, you know? I was so sure it was gonna work..."

"You'll find something," she says.

He laughs humorlessly. "There _is_ nothing else. Trust me, I've exhausted every resource I can think..."

"Sam." He looks up. Ruby's hands are on her hips but, despite her bitchy face, her eyes are gentle. "I hate to be the one to say 'not with that attitude', ruins the whole demon reputation but...you are being kind of a downer. And that's saying something, coming from a girl who's literally been to Hell..."

The corner of his mouth twitches up weakly. "So." He glances over his shoulder, making sure Dean is still busy. "What's it like, Ruby?"

"What, Hell?"

He nods.

"It's the worst thing you can possibly imagine, only a thousand times worse."

Sam grimaces. "Don't try to sugar coat it or anything..."

"Which is why we're gonna save your brother from ever going there."

"What-" Sam begins, but Dean cuts him off as he steps out of the phone booth.

"Well good new," he says, striding over to the Impala. "Bobby finally got someone to handle the sirens."

Sam snorts and Ruby rolls her eyes. "Oh good. Anything else?"

"Uh, yeah. He said thanks. To you."

Ruby raises her eyebrows. "To me?"

"Yep. For helping Sam and me."

"Huh." Sam smirks at Ruby.

"Speaking of which." Dean digs in his coat, pulling out the knife. He holds it for just a brief second before tossing it over. "Thanks for the loan."

"Sure th-"

"But if you ever go sneaking around with my brother behind my back again, I'll be using it on your skanky ass next time, got it?"

Sam closes his eyes, sighing. "Dean."

"Such a gentleman," Ruby grumbles, tucking the knife away. "And you're welcome. You know, for my risking my 'skanky ass' to save your brother and all that." She turns on her heel to walk away.

"Ruby," Dean says. She stops but doesn't turn to face him. "Seriously, though...thanks. I probably couldn't have saved him in time if it weren't for you... So thank you."

She turns only long enough to flash him the middle finger and a smirk before disappearing into thin air.

"What a classy dame," Dean remarks lightly. Sam laughs and pulls off the towel, drying his hair before tossing it in the backseat.

The brothers slide into the car, slamming the doors shut.

"You know what I feel like?" Dean grabs a cassette out of the cardboard box and pops it in, grinning as he dials up the volume.

Sam snorts at Deep Purple's unmistakable opening chord. Baby peels out onto the highway as Dean sings loud and off key alongside Ian Gillian.

 _"We ended up at the Grand Hotel_

 _It was empty, cold and bare_

 _But with the Rolling truck Stones thing just outside_

 _Making our music there_

 _With a few red lights, a few old beds_

 _We made a place to sweat_

 _No matter what we get out of this_

 _I know, I know we'll never forget_

 _Smoke on the water, a fire in the sky_

 _Smoke on the water!"_

* * *

 **A/N: Talk about a corny ending, I know... But hey it's Deep Purple so I think the gods will forgive me. lol**

 **Thanks for reading everyone and I hope you enjoyed!**


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